


I Met Bigfoot

by BarryJayBluejeans (Oak_Leaf)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Post-Amnesty Arc, The Adventure Zone: Amnesty, continuing that hallowed tradition where the mcelroys' characters just torment the heck outta NPCs, post the five episode pilot anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-16 01:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oak_Leaf/pseuds/BarryJayBluejeans
Summary: In which Bigfoot is spotted, a disconcerting crush is formed, and Barclay Done Messed Up.





	I Met Bigfoot

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bigfoot Made Me Lose Weight And Divorce My Husband - The Shocking Inside Scoop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043285) by [BenevolentErrancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentErrancy/pseuds/BenevolentErrancy). 



Kirby found the woman seated in a booth by the door of the little coffee shop in downtown Kepler, just where they had agreed to meet. In the small room, empty but for her and a few of the sleepy town's residents out for lunch, she was easy to spot. The woman looked, in two words, fancied up. Artificial tan and frosted tips, and cosmetics applied with surprisingly artful hand. She looks just as put together as she did in all the photos he found while researching her story online; the more recent photos, anyway. It was clear she had made special changes in her appearance lately, the way a person does when they are trying to impress a certain someone.

And, Kirby thought, eyeing her tee-shirt which bore the iconic silhouette of Sasquatch on the front, he had a pretty good idea who that someone was.

“Renee?” Kirby asked, shifting his laptop bag under one arm to free his right hand.

She smiled broadly, flashing teeth that matched her french-tipped nails. “Got it in one. You’re the man from the _Lamplighter_? Kirby?”

They shook hands, exchanging a few more pleasantries as Kirby settled himself across from her. He pulled out his equipment—notepad, pencils, an old-school recorder.

“I ordered a pot of coffee,” Renee was saying, “just before you got here. We can have the waitress bring another mug for you, if you’d like?”

“Yeah, sounds fine. The food isn’t the greatest here, honestly, but it makes for a quiet place to meet. Do you mind if we get started right away?”

Renee’s eyes were all but sparkling with eagerness. “Absolutely not!”

“Right.” He cleared his throat, and switched on his recording. “I’m sitting with Renee Lesky, the former stay-at-home mother of two, and current Bigfoot enthusiast.”

“I prefer cryptid activist,” she interrupted.

“Of course. Renee, your life, uh, has taken a significant change in the last several months. You’ve already discussed this with other...news outlets, but if you don’t mind, could you explain for our readers how that all started? What set you to become a...an activist?”

She leaned forwards, hands clasped under her chin. Kirby could have sworn she was pausing for dramatic effect, and he made a note to work that in somehow when he wrote this whole thing up. In a voice heavy with importance, Renee said into the recorder, “ _I met Bigfoot.”_

 

* * *

 

“She’s loony-tunes.”

Kirby double-clicked his pen, held at the ready over his notebook. “Is that your professional opinion?” he asked, eying Ranger Newton.

Behind his desk, the man was scowling up a storm, and that expression was only made worse by the dark, heavy bags under his eyes and the patches of scruff on his typically clean-shaved face. It didn’t take an investigative journalist to see that the man was in a bad mood, and probably had been for at least a few days.

If he would have known the Newton would be like that, Kirby would have stopped by the ranger shack another day. He had been tempted to just leave when he first arrived, but it had been weeks since he first tried to get a few answered questions out of him about the Lesky-Bigfoot situation, and this could be his only chance to corner the man. Even all his wheedling at Ned Chicane, who was friends with Newton, hadn’t been enough to help arrange a meeting.

“Professionally,” Newton said, “the parks department respectfully disagrees with Ms. Lesky’s enthusiastic but ill-informed beliefs.”

“Uh-huh.” Kirby jotted that down. Shame. He might still work in the phrase loony-tunes and figure out a way to give the same punch without truly being a quote.

Frankly, Kirby had to agree with his original assessment. Renee was at best overly enthusiastic, at worst...well. There was a word for people who called furred creatures “majestic” in such breathless tones. But, Kirby was used to the crazies and the frauds and the “enthusiastic, but ill-informed”—he had built the Lamplighter on not only working with them, but preaching to them.

No, he wasn’t bitter about that. Yes, there might have been a time when he once believed the wild stories told by people just like he had become, but he was older now. Kirby had accepted the cold, hard, cryptid-less facts of reality.

“Ms. Lesky says that the parks department denies it was a cryptid. Is that right?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“So, what do you think that _is_ in her footage?”

“It was a bear. I told Ms. Lesky that, just as I’m tellin' you now, just as I’ll tell anyone else who comes ‘round here asking.”

Kirby glanced down at highlighted note from his interview with Renee. “She claims that the parks service won’t admit she capture footage of a bigfoot because, quote, ‘the government is conspiring to control, both the knowledge available to folks and this majestic being living out in the wilds of Kepler.’ End quote.”

Newton stared at him.

Kirby threw up on hand. “Her words! The _Lamplighter_ does not endorse those views.”

“Right.” He leaned forwards and rested his arms on the desk, his chair squeaking under him. “I can safely promise you, Mr. Kirby, that I am not a part of any government conspiracy. And I’m for sure not following government orders to hide animals from the public.

“I have an appreciation for flora and fauna—they’re precious things, and with the dangers facing their dwindling numbers, no on would be more happy to discover new critters runnin’ around in the woods than me or my fellow rangers. I would love it if this were somethin’ other than your average black bear. But it ain’t.”

He rose from the desk, and although Duck Newton wasn’t a tall man, he had this presence that seemed to loom over the room. It was unsettling. Kirby tried not to squirm in his seat.

Newton reached behind him to grab the hat hung from a row of hooks on the wall, then stepped towards the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me Mr. Kirby, as delightful as this has been, I’m scheduled for patrol right ‘bout now.”

Kirby tucked away his notebook and stood. “Right. If you see anything strange out there, you know who to call,” he joked.

Newton smiled serenely. “I do believe I do.”

 

* * *

        

As the afternoon slowly turned towards the cool of evening, Kirby retreated to the Cryptonomica and its modem. Stepping inside the shop was almost worse than the muggy summer outdoors had been. Last month, the AC had quit, and Ned Chicane was still figuring out a way to get it fixed without spending the money it would cost. None of the windows could open all the way. And even when they did manage to slide one up an inch, letting in a faint trickle of air, that only managed to stir up the dust that seemed to perpetually coats the racks and displays inside. It stuffy, hot, smelt of old taxidermy, and all around uncomfortable.

But, there was internet and a steady supply of caffeinated beverages. Kirby could make do.

He pulled out his notes from the interview with Newton. It was probably for the best that he hadn’t been able to convince the ranger to let him record the meeting; there hadn’t been anything sensational, anyway, and this way he wouldn’t have to re-listen to and transcribe half-an-hour of audio.

Spreading his material out on the little corner table he had claimed as his station, he set to work. The _Lamplighter_ blog didn’t need an update until Monday, but if he wanted to have the edition out for sale in the store, he would need to turn the copy in bright and early Friday morning. Which was tomorrow.

Well, he had at least six hours.

Behind him, there was a muffled thump and rustling, then the squeak of an unoiled door and heavy footsteps. He didn’t need to turn to know that it was Ned Chicane, emerging from his “secret” back room with what the shopkeeper probably imagined was an air of mystery.

“Ah, you’ve returned from your journalistic pursuits, I see.”

“Yep,” Kirby answered, popping the last syllable. He didn’t look up from his work.

“Are...you still doing that piece about the old bat with the, uh, thing for our legendary friend?”

“Mmhm. Same as I have for the past month.”

“Oh, yes. I haven’t forgotten! I just...wondered, I suppose, if you had changed your mind about using that particular set of events.”

Kirby typed the last few words of a sentence, letting his fingers hit the keyboard with a series of hard _click-clacks_. Then he paused. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned, and he eyed Ned. Who was leaning against the counter in his usual get-up (loud suit, bolo tie), with his usual showman’s smile on his face. Except, there was a trace of anxiety lining his face, faint enough that Kirby almost missed it, and that betrayed the whole look.

“What’s up, Ned?” Kirby sighed. “You’ve been pussy-footing around this story since I discovered it. And now you want me to trash it the night before I need it?”

Ned shifted on his feet. “I didn’t say _that_ precisely, but, well, if you decided to...”

“Ned.”

He dithered for a moment, moving from the counter to toy with a few of the knickknacks lining the surfaces of the store. “It is a bit of a hot-bed topic isn’t it?”

“How’d you mean?”

“As I understand it, there are accusations at the state government. I shouldn’t think the Lamplighter, or the business that graciously hosts your fine press, would want to be associated with those.”

Of course. With all the bits and pieces he had gathered about Ned Chicane’s none-too-pristine history, it wasn’t surprising that he would be concerned about drawing government attention. A chuckle escaped Kirby. “It’s conspiracy theories, Ned. Just...all this—“ he gestured broadly, swooping arms over the cluttered storefront “—on a political level. Folks’ll eat it up, and those who aren’t already interested won’t pay it any mind.”

He didn’t appear convinced.

“Look, if you’re that nervous, I’ll be careful with my wording. Or put a disclaimer with the article, or something. But this the kinda thing the people who buy my magazine want to hear about, and I can’t just not ignore it.”

Bigfoot, as cliche as that particular cryptid was, had become a major selling point for not only the Lamplighter and the Cryptonomica, but the town of Kepler as a whole. It had been sometime since Kirby had first leaked that video Ned had faked (which Kirby was still impressed with the quality of), and even now, tourists would make a visit simply because they had watched “Bigfoot wrestles monster wildcat REAL!!” on YouTube.

Ned made a thoughtful noise, and stared at a spot on the wall over Kirby’s head while his brow furrowed deeper. Just as he looked about to respond, the bell over the entrance jingled. And in rushed a large bear of a man—larger even than Ned—all stomping boots and frantic calls.

“Ned! You gotta talk to—“

His eyes landed on Kirby, tucked away in the almost-hidden corner of the room, and the man jerked to a stop. His words cut off sharply, and the man began to stumble, apparently having tripped over his feet. His arms windmilled, as Ned stepped forwards to help him catch his balance.

“Barclay!” Ned boomed, a little too jovial to be sincere. “How wonderful to see you here, right now!”

“Um, thanks.” The man—Barclay—glanced back towards Kirby again. “Ah. Um. Hi, um.”

“Hey,” Kirby said, with an uncertain wave.

Barclay turned back to Ned. “Can I...talk with you privately?”

And that was Kirby’s cue to turn back to his computer and ignore the whole deal. Ned was up to something shady; water was wet, more news at eleven. As curious as he might be about...whatever it was that was going on, the less he knew about Ned’s back-door business, the more he could deny involvement in when the cops showed up.

The two murmured in low, indiscernible tones for a few moments, while Kirby pointedly did not try to listen. Before long, Ned spoke up and announced that he would be going out for a bit.

Kirby smiled politely. “Sure thing. I’ll keep an eye on the place while I’m here.”

They left, quickly, and Kirby caught Barclay glancing at him a few times as the two headed out the door. Weird, but—Kirby shook his head, rising to grab a can from the vending machine. Ned’s definitely-illegal shenanigans were his own problem, and Kirby had an article to write.

 

* * *

              

“Looks like your fangirl is talking again.”

A copy of the _Lamplighter_ slapped on the table. Loudly. Three of the four people gathered around the table jumped, then all shrunk under the glare Mama directed at them.

The Pine Guard—the vital line of defense protecting the alliance between Earth and Sylvan, ensuing the harmony and safety of both worlds—had been rounded up like a group children called the the principal’s office.

Mama leaned against the table, still glaring. “And let’s pray you haven’t got a reporter fanboy now.”

Barclay was not having a very good day. Or week. Or month. The last four months, actually, had not been especially wonderful. Somehow, everything was managing to grow worse and worse.

He glanced at the Zine, then began studying the grain in the table intently. The copy had landed cover up, and out from the grainy still-photo stared a familiar, fur-covered figure. He remembered the moment. The image didn’t fully capture the shock and horror he had felt, or the panicked way he had tried fall behind a tree for cover.

“What were you doing?” Aubrey asked. Barclay didn’t look, but he could imagine her leaning over the table and peering at the picture with delight.

“Yes,” Mama snapped. “What _were_ you doing?”

Barclay dared a peek up, just enough to see her arms folded disapprovingly across her chest. “It...the crane position,” he muttered, and instantly regretted it. Exercise—he should have just said _exercise_.

“And you needed to do this undisguised? Outside? Where God an’ every hiker with a smartphone can see you?” Mama demanded, at the same time Aubrey hooted, “ _Nude yoga?_ ”

Well. This was the moment he would die. He had always hoped he would go out in some brave way, in the line of duty for the Pine Guard, but apparently whatever deity was out there had a cruel, cruel sense of humor.

Barclay hunched into his shoulders. If only, he wished he wished desperately, he could snap his fingers, like he was Aubrey doing a magic show. A cloud of smoke, and, _poof_ , he would make himself and this whole situation disappear.

“It wasn’t like that,” he muttered, for all the good that might do.

Someone snorted—Ned, probably, since it didn’t sound like Aubrey, and Duck had seemed less amused by the situation than the other two. Barclay ducked his head lower.

“ _You_ ,” Mama hissed, voice like a sharped, swinging scythe. “Ned Chicane. Care to explain how this ended up not only published and for sale in your store, but on the front page?”

Ned defended himself, claiming it would have been more suspicious if he had refused to let Kirby print that. He went on, but Barclay was doing his best to block out the rest of the meeting. Duck spoke up, at one point, saying he’d do his best to keep Renee Lesky from raising too much trouble, but that she seemed determined enough to take extreme measures.

 _Extreme measures_. Barclay hoped that meant she would continue trying to spread her story, and not that the woman would take to wandering the wilds of the Monongahela, calling for him.

“It’ll blow over soon,” Ned insisted.

“Better hope so!” Mama hit her palm against the table, and Barclay jolted straight. She sighed, and finally sank into a chair, massaging her forehead. “Y’all just gonna need to be extra careful from now on— _Extra. Careful_. Ya hear me?”

“Yes’um,” the four chorused as one.

“And Aubrey, you’re in charge of spreading that to the rest of the Lodge. We don’t need anyone else messin’ up and givin’ me even more trouble to clean up right now.”

“Of course,” Aubrey chirped. “I’ll call a meeting with Doctor Harris Bonkers.”

Mama half cracked a smile at that. “Good. Now go on.”

They cleared the room, pursued by her weary displeasure. As Barclay stepped through the doorway, he heard her call him back.

He ducked his head back in the room, hesitantly. “Yes?”

Mama steeped her fingers, and peered at him over her hands for a long moment. “So,” she said, cocking an eyebrow. “Nude yoga?”

“Uh, I’m just going to go. Yep. Good-bye.”

Outside her office, Ned, Duck, and Aubrey were gathered just down the hall. For a moment, Barclay almost felt touched that they had waited for him. Then, he spotted the copy of the _Lamplighter_ in Aubrey’s hands, which she must have grabbed off the table—and, he heard the excerpt she was reading aloud. Dramatically, in her performance voice.

“ _—the moment I spotted that majestic creature, I realized that there’s so much more to life that we don’t know. Life is beautiful_.”

“Aubrey,” he pleaded.

“Take pride! You’re a majestic creature. She even says she left her husband after she saw you, you hunk of a Bigfoot.”

He turned, pleadingly, to Duck. Duck was a sensible person, right? He was a professional, who would take pity on his tormented coworker.

Duck clapped a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she likes you for more than your ravishin’ good looks.”

Barclay buried his face in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> SO WE'RE GETTING MORE AMNESTY THIS WEEK! As much as I loved the other mini-arcs, monster filled small towns are my jam, and I'm excited! The news motivated me to write this (goofy) idea, and test the waters with posting TAZ fic. Shout-out to @fridge246 on tumblr for being a wonderful!
> 
> Inspired by an actual news story: https://t.co/i1n6LbX7Cn
> 
> BenevolentErrancy already wrote their take on an Amnesty version of this event, but I wanted to play with it from Kirby's perspective.


End file.
